Wide Awake
by Veronica Lacroix
Summary: Songfic: "Torn" by Natalie Imbruglias. When Caroline awakes that morning, she doesn't expect the broken heart she receives or the man attempting to make it right. Mentions of Caroline/Stefan, hints of Damon/Elena. T for suggestion.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own or claim any part of the CW, L.J. Smith, or the producers of the show the Vampire Diaries or the lyrics to "Torn" by Natalie Imbruglias. This is not for profit.

**Author's Note:** It's been a while since I've actually finished a songfic, and I'm pretty happy with myself. As far as the story itself goes, I'm a little so-so about it. I love the idea – Caroline's comparision of Damon to Stefan – and the action – Caroline's broken heart. I'm a pretty solid Steroline shipper, so this is all new to me. Anyway, I hope you like it! As always, please review!

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><p><em>I thought I saw a man brought to life<em>

_He was warm, he came around and he was dignified_

_He showed me what it was to cry_

I felt the sun touch me, I could see the light behind my closed eyelids. I knew that I would roll over, yawning and he would put his arm around me. He'd whisper good morning with a smile and we'd laugh about how we missed the bed last night. I'd curl into him, breathe him in. It would be a perfect moment.

He was the only one who could make me feel like this. Completely oblivious to everything else in the world but him. When he kissed me, I felt human again. I was just another girl in love. My life now seemed like a series of simple perfect moments. Until I heard the creak of the wooden floor.

_You couldn't be the man I adored_

_You don't seem to know, don't seem to care_

_What your heart is for_

_But I don't know him anymore_

Unbidden, I opened my eyes. Then it hit me how cool it was down here even without the breeze coming in from the open window. I rolled on the soft rug and felt nothing. _No one_. I sat up quickly, searching the room for my missing lover. I was unable to sort out this emotion I was feeling. Shock? Worry? Then I saw Damon in the doorway.

He stood there, casually, shoe-less, shirtless with a tall crystal cup of his usual amber liquid. I looked at him, halfway furious that first Salvatore face I had to meet this morning was the elder's. He paid my dagger's gaze no mind however and answered my unasked question. "He left a couple of hours ago."

It took me a moment to process his deadpan phrase and while doing so, my eyes dropped to the empty space beside me. Stefan. He left without saying a word. Without a note, or a call - leaving his heartless brother here to pass along a message he hadn't intentionally sent. Damon continued, "Elena called."

My eyes snapped back to the doorway and his only response to my burning gaze was a slow sip of his liquor. The ache in my chest began to grow before I realized the whole reason of why it was there in the first place. I stared again at Stefan's former place on the rug, remembering with vivid detail the events of last night, our seemingly sweet love-making, and figured out one emotion at least: _abandonment_.

"And everyone thinks that _I'm_ the dick."

I took a deep breath, realizing that I hadn't said a word to Damon at all. I should have told him to get the hell out, for obvious reasons. Those reasons had almost been forgotten while thinking of Stefan, but I gripped the sheet I was tangled in, tucking it safely underneath my arms. I opened my mouth but nothing came out. I wasn't sure if I wanted to tell him to leave or to go fuck himself or make up some lie about how calmly I was taking this.

"What are you doing, Damon?" I asked when I found my voice, though it sounded strained even to my ears. I didn't know if I really wanted to hear his answer, but I was hoping that once he figured out that I wasn't a brick wall he was talking to he would leave me alone to sort everything out.

I could have easily guessed at his answer. Since we first met, Damon had relished in my pain. When I was still human and under his compulsion, he treated me as though I were a toy. He laughed at my agony. Now that I was a vampire, that I was stronger and he wasn't able to control me the way he once had, he was looking for an opportunity to witness my pain again.

_There's nothing where he used to lie_

_This conversation has run dry_

_That's what's going on_

_Nothing's fine, I'm torn_

The distrust in my eyes must have been clear, but he crossed the room anyway. I angled my head up to see him when he stood before me. I wondered what more could he have to say? After all, in not so many words, he conveyed the fact that Stefan had chosen Elena over me. That he'd _used_ me. That he'd_ left_ me. I didn't want to imagine how much salt Damon could pour into that wound.

"Talk to me." He answered flatly. He lowered his arm, holding the glass in front of my face. I cocked my head to the side, confused. I didn't respond, just merely took the glass from him and sipped lightly. The burn it created in my belly only seemed to increase the burn in the back of my throat. Soon that burn would be tears and I _couldn't_ allow Damon to see that. So I pushed his liquor back into his hand and looked away.

"Hey," His voice begged for my attention but I refused. He bent his knees, squatting down to my level and leaned, his face searching for mine. "Would you just talk about it, Caroline?"

"What for?" I clutched at the thin cotton sheet, wishing he wasn't so close. I was afraid of my voice breaking pitch - if it did, then he would know that he had won. I turned my head away, but surprises of surprises, Damon sat himself down next to me.

"Because, you stupid girl," I tried to ignore that little bite to hear the rest of what he had to say. "_I'm_ the only one you can talk to."

_Well, I guess the fortune teller's right_

_Should have seen just what was there_

_And not some holy light_

_It crawled beneath my veins and now_

I bit my lip – of course, he was right. I unfisted one hand from the sheet and but refused to look at him. Even so, I reached out and snatched the glass away from him, taking a deep drink this time. He was in the same boat as I, both of us loving two people who loved each other. Even for all his cruelty, he _would_ be the one person who would understand.

"You shouldn't let him get to you," Damon spoke, watching me clutch the whiskey. "You had to have known that -"

"What?" I couldn't hold back the anger in my voice. "That he'd break my heart?"

"Absolutely!" He replied, stealing back the glass and swallowing down the last mouthful. "He might say that he cares about you, that you matter to him, but it's a lie. He's so good at _using_ you that you actually think that he loves you. But in the end, he will _always_ choose _her_. No matter what you do, it'll never be _you_."

I got the distinct feeling that he was over-identifying far too much. That he was no longer just talking about_ me_. But his words were hitting home and hitting hard. I felt the tears that I'd been fighting so hard to hide welling up in my eyes. I _was_ a fool after all. I'd known somewhere deep down that the Stefan I wanted and the Stefan that I had were two very different people. But my mind was so clouded by those perfect moments that I'd ignored the truth.

_I don't care I have no luck_

_I don't miss it all that much_

_There's just so many things_

_That I can't touch I'm torn_

"Damon..." He set down the glass on the floor beside the rug. He shook his head and was clearly unwilling to hear any kind of defense I would make for Stefan. Or perhaps about Elena as well.

"You can't let him do this to you," he said, no longer looking at me. His jaw was tense and I wondered if he was holding back his own emotions. Or was spreading out all my secret hurt some kind of sick release for him? This couldn't be an encouraging talk – not when it felt so bad to hear him say these things.

"And what about you?" I countered, unable to take any more berating Damon might dish out. He sniffed as he tilted his head up to the ceiling, comtemplating. Yet he wore that hard expression that he made whenever he heard something that was difficult to take in. Next would come the sarcasm, then the lashing of his tongue. This would all end with us snarling at one another and him storming away to leave me to be ashamed alone. I scoffed, "You're such a hypocrite."

_I'm all out of faith_

_This is how I feel_

"No," Damon breathed, turning his head back to me. "You want to know why I even care? Because if _you_ can be strong enough, then _I _sure as hell can be. I'm not blind; I know that Elena will never..."

I heard him trail off and it left me with a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. I didn't want to hear anymore. The tears I'd been hiding until now were slipping out from my eyes, beginning to streak my cheeks. When I spoke, it came out in a desperate tone. "Enough, Damon. I – I don't know what you're playing at, but you're not gonna -"

I was interrupted by his hands suddenly coming toward me. I flinched away, squeezing my eyes shut. It was a learned reflex from all those times he grabbed me – to choke me, to compel me, to drink from me. I breathed heavily, feeling a whimper rise in my throat. But I never felt him touch me. After a few seconds, I chanced at opening my eyes and before my face, his palms were extended.

"I am sorry," Damon said softly, his hands frozen in the space between us. "For everything I've done to you. For my brother."

I exhaled a shuddering breath and felt my lips quiver with a soon-to-be renewed sob. I stared with wonder at the softened expression on Damon's face. His sharp blue eyes glistened, proving the genuiness of his words. His eyebrows were knitted in concern – for _me_. I wouldn't have dared to believe it if I wasn't witnessing it with my own eyes. In my bewilderment, I could only utter one question, "Why?"

_I'm cold and I am shamed_

_Lying naked on the floor_

_Bound and broken on the floor_

"Because... you're better than this, better than me. You don't deserve any of it. I mean it, really. I - I guess I can't stand to see you hurt anymore."

His hands slowly came closer to my face, his fingertips brushed away the teardrops on my cheeks. I let my eyes close as he covered them with his palms, crading my face in his hands. It was strange, how comforting it felt to be touched by him. It was as if this was exactly what I needed but I was so afraid of it at the same time. I opened my eyes again when I felt his hands move.

I looked up to see him trying at a smile. He moved my hair away from my face, his fingers untangling my messy curls gently. In spite of myself, I crept closer to him. I was completely focused on his pale face, both out of wariness and out of curiousity. Then he touched my bare shoulders and I remembered my nudity and my cheeks flushed. I felt a stab of worry when he caressed my back and took a hold of the sheet. But instead of peeling it from me – which would have been what the Damon I knew would've done – he drew it closer around me, covering me better than I had.

"I think... we should have talked a long time ago."

_Illusion never changed_

_Into something real_

_I'm wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn_

It was this simple gesture that broke me. I felt my heart grow far too heavy for my chest to hold and my head bowed under the weight of new cries. It was too honest of him for me to comprehend. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close to him. I pressed my cheek to his chest, his flesh warm against my seemingly cold skin. And the closer I tried to inch toward him, the stronger he held me.

I sobbed into him, clinging tightly. It seemed unreal that hours ago in this very spot, Stefan and I were lost to our passion. That ten minutes ago, I was still under the impression that the traitorous thing we had was love. And that it was Damon – my _enemy_ – who showed me the light. That it was he who was giving me solace of his arms, that it was he who was where Stefan _should_ have been. And I realized that this was the _only_ real moment I'd ever had in this room, on this floor.

"Damon," I moaned wetly, still searching to be closer, to be more comforted. I wanted to be shielded from the pains of realization – it was ironic that I was looking for it from the person who'd given it to me in the first place. An arm tightened around my waist, pulling me up into his lap.

"Shh," Damon hushed me, planting a sweet kiss to my forehead. Then he tucked my head underneath his and stroked my hair. I could feel his other hand rubbing small circles into my back through the sheet. "It's all right, Caroline. I know. I know."

I was torn. Torn completely by the one man I thought could never do such a thing to me. And yet, here was the one man I'd always assumed would revel in my suffering – here suffering along with me. Something about it made complete sense. That a part of needed Damon, that was grateful he was here. I didn't know if anyone could start putting me back together, but a part of me knew that Damon would try.

It wasn't a perfect moment, but at least I was wide awake for it.

_You're a little late_

_I'm already torn_


End file.
